The Menehune's Hero
by LadyMoonSilver
Summary: Once again I have moved everything into the nineties. Set after Cord McKenzie tried to blow up Iolani Palace and things aren't going as planned. Maybe got a little preachy in some spots. Threw in a little dark humor. Adding my usual warning about sex, violence, and bad language. Please read and review...
1. Chapter 1

_I'm back again with the continuing saga of Five-O in the nineties._

 _Here's my usual disclaimer about how all the characters that made the series so enjoyable belong to CBS. Everything else is a figment of my very overactive imagination_

 _Got a little preachy about women veterans and veterans in general. On the average 22 veterans a day commit suicide. It's not a pretty statistic and the scary part is a lot of them are women. The original Five-O treated veterans better than any other program of the same time period. I am hoping the 'reboot' does the same._

 _Now for a bit of Hawaiian history. According to Hawaiian law, that is if it hasn't been changed since he passed away, the license plate that read "FIVE-O" could only belonged to Jack Lord, the original Steve McGarrett._

 _I mixed in a bit of fact with a lot of fiction... read and enjoy..._

* * *

O-O-O-O-O

Steve lay back in the Jacuzzi, letting the hot water swirl around his aching body. He took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of eucalyptus, mint, and menthol from the bath salt Maggie had poured into the tub. The mineral concoction was suppose to help relieve muscle pain and stiffness. He felt himself relaxing as he leaned back against the bath pillow. _Mission accomplished,_ he thought, sleepily. _Mother's Helper is no longer a threat to anyone and Iolani Palace is still standing._ All things considered, the outcome could have been a lot worse.

John Manicote and Duke Lukela were both recovering from gunshot wounds. Duke would probably be home from the hospital by the end of the week. John Manicote would be in a while longer, but was well on the road to recovery. The only dark spot was the death of HPD Sergeant Keokie Aliki, shot down in cold blood by Cord McKenzie. Aliki had been the first officer to sight the van McKenzie had turned into a truck bomb and had called in a description as well as the plate numbers. He had died a hero's death in the line of duty.

He heard the door open and the silky sound of Maggie's bathrobe sliding to the floor.

"Want some company?" she asked.

"Of my favorite naked lady? Get in here," he said as she got into the tub beside him. The Jacuzzi, he decided, was turning into the best investment he'd ever made. She leaned back against him as his hands reached up to cup her breasts.

"You took the bandages off," she said.

"If I had left them on they would have gotten soggy," he said.

"I suppose," she said as he kissed the top of her head. "Got a minute to talk about something serious?"

"Sure," he said, nibbling her neck. Whatever was in the mineral bath was doing more than quieting the aches and pains from the afternoon's excitement. _Note to self,_ he thought _, no more stopping truck bombs. You are getting too old for this._

"I had a meeting with the Colonel," she said. " _Before_ this afternoon's fireworks. I'm filing for medical retirement. If all goes as planned, I will be officially retired from the Army by the end of February."

He didn't say anything. He just held her. When he finally spoke, he was having a hard time concealing his emotions. "I think that would be the best news I've heard in a very long time." He closed his eyes as his arms tightened around her. "Baby, you have no idea what a relief that will be. Are you sure this is what you want?"

She loved the way his hands felt on her skin. He was making it hard to focus. "Yes, this is what I want. I'll retire eight months early and with the words 'medical retirement' stamped on my 214, I won't ever have to worry about being recalled for active duty."

She felt his arms tighten around her, holding her as close as he could. "My worse nightmare is you being sent to god only knows where because that jumped up excuse for an Arkansas hillbilly decides to bomb some third world country no one has ever heard of to divert attention from getting caught with another intern. I'm keeping my fingers crossed and hoping he can keep it in his pants until you are officially retired." McGarrett didn't like politics. He had a bad habit of speaking his mind and could never understand the mindset of covering up unacceptable behavior, especially since it would have been easier to do what was right. _Whatever happened to morals_ , he thought. _The man's the president and should have known bette_ r. He tried to imagine himself in the same situation but couldn't. It all came down to one indisputable fact; he loved his wife too much to ever hurt her.

She turned to face him, placing her hands on his shoulders, looking up at him, eyes unfocused without her glasses. "Think you can put up with having me underfoot until I can find a job?"

"Now it's my turn to be serious," he said. "Who says you have to get a job? In fact, I would rather you didn't. I know that's an old fashioned and archaic idea that went by the wayside years ago, but I don't care. I like the idea of you waiting for me when I get home. I suppose that comes from too many years of coming home to an empty house."

"Your sister warned me about you," she said, smiling. "She said that as soon as I retired you were going to want me to be a stay-at-home wife. You know, I never got to do that before. There's a lot of stuff I never got to do that I never even knew I was missing. Susan said the same thing a few days ago. She said that life very seldom gives you a do over. She says she got one and she's not going to let it go to waste. I got one, too, only I didn't realize it until this morning when I was getting dressed for work."

"That you got a do over?" he asked. "I think both of us got one. Nothing like nearly getting blown to bits to make you appreciate what you have." He tilted her chin back and kissed her, long and slowly and deeply. When they at last broke apart, he smiled down at her. "You know how my sister says I never go off duty?"

"I remember. She also said you were a born worrier, overprotective, and that you were still living by the cadet honor code from Annapolis and that's just a few of the reasons that I love you so much." She gently slid her palms down his chest. She heard the quick intake of his breath as she wrapped her fingers around him.

"Keep that up, baby, you've got my attention. What I was trying to say, is that while you were in the hospital I read your journals. I found the note that said it was okay to read them and I did. Then I found the box with the stories." He was having a hard time thinking coherently. "What I'm trying to say is you don't have to go back to work. Stay home and write."

"You read my journals? All of them? Even the last one?" she said, pulling away from him and feeling the panic surging through her.

"Yes, even that one. I read that one first. You had left a pile of them on the dining room table and that one was at the top. I found the note and I read the journal. I don't frighten easily, but that one scared me, more than you will ever know. I talked to Susan and she filled in a few of the blanks for me. You are not allowed to ever get that depressed again. You had too many bad things happen too quickly. I have no idea how you handled it as well as you did."

"I don't think I did a very good job of handling anything," she said quietly. "I could function at work because the Army has rules and if you do your job properly, they don't bother you, especially when you're wearing a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star. I was a mess and I wanted to die, anything to take away the pain. Only I got a wake up call instead of visit from the Grim Reaper," she looked up at him, her dark green eyes filling with tears. "I'm better now. I'm not sad any more, or at least not like I was. I still have the occasional bad day. I think everyone does, and I have learned that with veterans, that can be dangerous. On the average, everyday, 22 veterans commit suicide. _Every day,_ Steve, and a lot of them are women. The suicide rate for women veterans is six percent higher than the national average. I was almost one of them, only I got lucky. In more ways than one. Women veterans have a fifty percent greater chance of being involved in an abusive relationship than women who never served. I thought I would never fall in love again, much less marry again. But I found you. That was all I really needed."

She looked up at him and gave him a weary smile. "I'm sorry, I'm sounding like a statistician. I have been doing research for an article about what women can expect once they leave the military. Sometimes it's not a pretty picture and the VA isn't being much help because most VA hospitals and clinics still aren't set up for women vets. It's the same with most military hospitals. They have no idea what to do with us. I'm sorry, sweetie, I'm babbling again."

"Babble all you want," he said. "For the first time you are telling me what's bothering you and that's the only way I'll ever know. You have to tell me things. You didn't tell me about Lydia until after we were engaged. You never talk about Michael, or the War. You have to tell me what's going on inside that beautifully brilliant mind of yours, or when you get depressed, or anxious, or afraid. You're living with a lot of bad memories, pain, and that damned PTSD. I can't help you get through any of that if you don't let me know what's going on." He held her tighter, as if he were afraid she'd vanish if he let go.

She was silent for a moment, resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "It's hard, sometimes, to talk about the bad things. I started keeping the journals when I enlisted. I don't know why, just thought it might make a good story. Parts of it are funny, parts of it are intense, some are downright scary, and some of it's a goddamned Greek tragedy. It was easier to write about it than to talk about it. So that's what I did. Micheal never read my journals, just the stories. I think maybe there was a lot I should have told him that I didn't and it's too late now. I don't want that to ever happen to us."

"It won't, baby. If there's something you just can't talk about, write it down and I'll read it. I know I should have asked before I read the rest of the journals and that what I did was an invasion of privacy, and I hope that you'll forgive me, but I had to know what made you, well, you. I learned a lot from the journals and from the stories. Now it's time to share them with the rest of the world."

"You mean that?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. "There are times when you are the most exasperating woman I've ever met and I love you dearly. So how about it? You stay home and write, and I'll go to work, and in six years when I retire, we spend the rest of out lives horrifying the neighbors by making love at all hours of the day and night, all over the house, and the yard, and on the beach."

"That's the best offer I've heard since you asked me to marry you," she said smiling. "Okay, Big Guy, if that's what you want, that's what you're going to get, one stay at home writer in residence." She pulled his head down to kiss him. "Let's get out of this tub and into bed."

"Now that's the best offer I've had all day." he said, smiling. He got out of the tub, wrapped a towel around his waist and held one out for her. He wrapped her in the soft cotton and pulled her into his arms.

OOOOO

Maggie's internal alarm, conditioned by almost twenty years of military service, went off at 0430. She got out of bed quietly, leaving Steve sleeping soundly, pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt and headed down to the beach to watch the sun rise. The beach was always peaceful at this early hour. She rolled up her pants legs and waded to the water's edge, letting the surf wash over her feet.

 _He doesn't want me to work_ , she thought to herself, _he wants me to stay home and write. I can do that,_ _or at least give it a try._ She watched the sun come up as the tide came in. She glanced at her watch and started back up the path to the house. It was just after five, and she knew that Charlie Swanson and his construction crew would be there at seven. So much for sleeping in. At least they would have time to have breakfast together, an event that rarely happened midweek. She put the tea kettle on to boil, took eggs and bacon out of the fridge, started preparing breakfast, humming to herself. _I think I could get use to this._ She switched on the small TV on the counter to watch the morning news while she cooked.

Steve came into the kitchen just as she was taking the bacon out of the pan. "Something smells good," he said, embracing her from behind and kissing her neck.

"You're suppose to be sleeping," she said. "I was going to bring you breakfast in bed. I turned on the morning news and everyone is still talking about the explosion at the palace. Meyers from channel nine is calling you a hero, and a hero deserves breakfast in bed."

"Meyers called me a hero?" Steve asked incredulously. "That's a switch. What he usually calls me never makes it past the network censors."

"Well, you did save an important historical Hawaiian landmark from destruction," she said, giggling at the look on Steve's face. "Hey, he said that, not me. I'm just quoting. They also had a clip of Danny giving the press conference at the hospital. He gave most of the credit for discovering the 'dastardly plot' to Pacita Mendoza's computer skills and Chin's ability to do on the spot analysis. And of course he said you were being your usual heroic self."

"Danny called it a dastardly plot?" Steve asked with a raised eyebrow. He turned on the coffee pot he couldn't remember setting up the night before. _I must have really been out of it._ He tried to stretch the kinks out of his spine. It felt as if every bone and muscle in his body were queuing up to see which one could be the most painful.

Maggie poured him a glass of orange juice and gave him the blood pressure medicine and one of the pain pills Doc had prescribed. He was too sore to argue about the pain medication.

"No, Meyers did. That man never met an adverb he didn't like. Sit," she said, as he swallowed both pills. "Breakfast is ready." She gave him a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast, and put a platter of fresh fruit on the table. She sat across from him and smiled. "Just like an old married couple."

"We are an old married couple," he said. "or at least I'm feeling the old part. Doc wasn't kidding when he told me I was going to be hurting this morning."

Maggie was spreading strawberry jam on her toast. "Next time leave the heroics to someone younger."

"There wasn't time," he said. "We were out of time and options. That's when you do what has to be done and hope like hell it works."

"Don't do it again," she said, suddenly serious. "I've gotten use to having you around."

"You don't have to worry on that score, baby," Steve said. "McKenzie and his crew are officially out of business."

"Yes," she said. "For now. But what about the next McKenzie, or the one after that?"

"If I can, I'll save the heroics for the younger men." He paused for a moment, watching the woman who sat across the table, wondering, not for the first time, how he had managed to live without her for so long. "I already told the governor he's got me until I'm sixty and not one day after. Then I'm going to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Which brings me to a question I asked you the day you got out of the hospital and I know you've been brooding about since. Do you want to adopt a child?"

She looked back at him, her big green eyes suddenly sparkling with unshed tears. "You know I do, but only if you want to. Do you think we'll be up to chasing a little one around the house? We both have to admit that neither of us is getting any younger."

"If Duke can, so can I." Steve said, smiling. "He's only four years younger than I am, and I know you're younger than Susan. If you want, I'll start making calls and setting up appointments today."

"You mean that?" she asked, eyes wide with wonder and soft with love.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't. You can be a full time stay-at-home mom who is going to be Hawaii's most famous writer," he said, smiling.

"I don't know about being a famous writer, but I like the stay-at-home mom part."

"Then it's settled. I'll make the calls as soon as I get back to the office and get the numbers."

"You mean when Jenny finds the numbers and gets them on the line," she said. Suddenly she became very serious. "Steve, I want to give Susan and Duke the nursery furniture in the garage. They haven't had a chance to shop for baby furniture yet. With their wedding and all the medical testing, and now with Duke getting hurt, it looks like it'll be a while before they can. And we have to face the fact that it could be a long time before we get a child."

He reached across the table to take her hand. "Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked. Maggie and her late husband had brought the furniture in anticipation of a child that never came home from the hospital.

"Yes," she said. "We can always buy more when the time comes," mentally adding, _if it ever does._ She had spent hours researching adoption agencies only to find that all of them had waiting lists and that even if they wanted an older child, there was still a wait. "That furniture has crossed two oceans and its never been out of the boxes. It's time to put it to some use."

"I'll call Eddie and have him pick it up this weekend. I don't think Duke is going to be doing any heavy lifting for a while."

"I'm glad he was wearing that vest, that's for sure," Maggie said. "And that you had yours on. I don't even want to think about the alternative." She shuddered involuntarily.

"Finish your breakfast," he said. "I'm going to hobble off to the shower." He gave her a wicked grin. "Want to join me? You can massage my aching muscles."

"You'd better make it a cold shower. I still have to be at work by nine."

When she joined him a few minutes later he discovered his muscles weren't that achy after all.


	2. Chapter 2

O-O-O-O-O

The glaziers were already at work when Maggie dropped McGarrett off at Iolani Palace at eight. Most of the windows on the front had been broken in the blast. The white coral brickwork was blackened and smoke stained. But it was the lawns that had taken the brunt of the blast. Tire tracks and shredded shrubbery marked McKenzie's desperate path across the lawns. One of the Queen Ann palms had been beheaded at the crown. A crude circle of burned and blackened grass marked the spot where McKenzie had detonated the claymore mines packed in with the fertilizer bomb. What was left of the blue van and Steve's car were still parked where they had crashed while agents from the ATF and FBI were going over both vehicles, collecting evidence.

Maggie had seen the explosion on channel nine's news the night before and on the morning rebroadcast. She still wasn't prepared for the sight of the burned out hulk that was Steve's car, the broken glass, or the destroyed lawns. She sat behind the steering wheel of her car, staring at the destruction.

Steve went around to the driver's side of the car. She had the top down and he reached down to gently squeeze her shoulder. "Its alright, baby," he said. "It looks worse than it was."

She looked at him over the tops of her sunglasses. "No, it looks exactly as bad as it is. You could have been killed and so could a lot of other people. But you stopped it. I am so proud of you! But, baby, please, don't ever pull a stunt like this again!"

He could still smell the acrid scent of burning rubber, wiring, farm diesel, and charbroiled human and knew she was smelling the same thing. He had a horrible feeling that the sight of the burned vehicles and the smell of destruction were going to bring on a recurrence of the nightmares that had plagued her since Desert Storm. He tilted her face up, bent down, and kissed her softly. "Sweetie, with the exception of some sore muscles, I'm fine. Really. I promise, no more heroics for at least a month. Scouts honor."

"Try that with someone else, you never were a Boy Scout." she said, smiling. "I've got to go. I'll see you at home. Do you need me to pick you up after work?"

"No, hon, I should have another car by this afternoon. I'll see you at home and I'll be there at a reasonable hour," he said, kissing her once more before she drove away.

Kono was standing by, watching the the Feds, ready to answer any questions they might have. Steve joined him, still in dismay at the extent of the damage.

"You one lucky _kahuna_ , Boss," Kono said. "I can't decide if what you did was brave, or just stupid."

"A little bit of both, I'd say," Steve answered. "Next time you can stop the truck bomb."

"Hope they won't be no next time," Kono said. "Little Miss _Menehune_ look like she was getting upset when she saw the mess the bomb made."

"I should have had her drop me off on the other side of the building. I'm hoping it doesn't trigger one of those damned PTSD nightmares. She's had enough," McGarrett said, mentally consigning McKenzie to hell. "Has the body been recovered?"

Kono looked a little nauseated. "So far all they found is a few bones. They looking for his head and hoping that his teeth are intact. Barring that they want enough bone marrow to get a DNA, not that they gone find much in burnt bones."

"Makes you wonder what McKenzie's going to do when he finds out the Pearly Gates are manned by a Jewish carpenter. Kono, you don't have to call me 'Boss' anymore. You're the sheriff. That mean's you're Honolulu counties Big Man. You're the boss now," Steve said, smiling at his former detective.

"Old habit, Boss," Kono said, grinning. "I done found out what 'Big Man' mean. It means it's your ass when it goes wrong. Good thing I had a good boss to learn from."

"I learned a long time ago, you're only as good as the people working for you. Speaking of which, where's Danno?" Steve asked, wondering why Danny wasn't in the parking lot fielding Federal agents.

"Him and Chin went by the jail to bring Phelps in for more questioning. Only they got back about ten minutes ago with no Phelps and they both looked like they mad. Ran up the steps before anyone could ask what was going on." Kono had been considering going up to the office to find out what was up, except he was waiting for the governor. Jameson had sworn him to secrecy about the visit.

"If it's not one thing, it's another," Steve said. "Guess I should get to work."

"Yeah, these crooks ain't gone arrest themselves," Kono said. "They already got someone in your office cleaning up the broke glass. Looks like you about to get a bunch of new windows while I get to babysit the Feds this morning. One of these days I'm going to have time to hire an assistant that knows more than how to aim a camera."

"Good luck with that," Steve said, patting the big Hawaiian on the back. "No recruiting from Five-O and don't even **_think_** about trying to recruit Jenny."

Kono watched McGarrett make his way up the stairs, for once not at a run.

McGarrett could hear Danny shouting before he opened the door to the outer office.

"Yes, I know he's gone!" Danny was shouting into the phone. "What I want to know is where he is and who took him! It's not a difficult question. There's this thing called 'chain of custody'. Phelps was signed into the jail at 2:20pm yesterday afternoon, so unless he developed a talent for walking through walls, he should damn well still be there, and if he isn't, he should have been signed out by someone. Now where the hell is he?" He listened to the reply, frustration very evident from the look on his face. "You know, you are about as useful as sidesaddle on a hog." He slammed the phone down.

"What's with Danno?" he asked Jenny. "He's speaking Southern." Maggie and Ivory Thompson were from Louisiana and Beverly was from Alabama, and it seemed as if everyone in the office was picking up a few descriptive examples of southern colloquialism. He gave Jenny a brief hug. "Welcome back. How was your stay at the Illiki?"

"Wonderful. Except now my kids are expecting room service and want a pool. I'm not sure what's going on with Danny." she said, frowning.

Chin came out of his office, looking almost as angry as Danny, who joined them.

"Morning, Steve," Danny said. "Phelps is missing."

"What!" Steve said. "How? Did he break out of jail?"

"That's what we trying to figure out," Chin said. "All we got was he was suppose to be waiting for a meeting with his lawyer, one Daniel B. Cooper, who isn't listed with the state bar association or any other legal organization here. I'll start calling the mainland as soon as I get all the numbers."

"Got them already," Jenny said, handing Chin a list of phone numbers.

"Thanks," Chin said. "I'm glad you're back. You keep us out of trouble."

"The last record the county jail has on Phelps is where he was taken to an interview room to wait for his lawyer. Then he vanished. Poof. Gone. Only there's no evidence the lawyer was ever there; no sign in time, no sign out time, and no record of Phelps leaving the room. The only record we have on the lawyer is where he called to confirm that Phelps was his client and that he was on his way to talk to him." Danny explained. "Phelps was in a holding cell until he was moved to the interview room. Shift changed at four, and the guards that came on duty had no idea he was even there."

"That doesn't make sense." McGarrett said. "Did you check the security cameras?"

"The captain of the guard told me I'd have to get a court order. My next stop is the DA's office for a warrant to pull the tapes."

"I'll call the ADA and get things started," Steve said. "I'll be glad when John's back on the job."

Jenny and Danny gave him an odd look, wondering if Steve's past history with the ADA had anything to do with the sentiment. "Want me to get her on the line for you?" Jenny asked.

"Please," Steve said. "I suppose I should see how badly my office was damaged." He was dreading the thought of what was behind the closed door.

"It's not that bad," Jenny said. "The cleaning crew finished about half an hour ago. There wasn't that much damage, just a few pictures knocked off the walls and overturned bookshelves. You're going to get some new blinds and your diploma from Annapolis has to be re-framed. The damage on the ground floor is a lot worse."

"Any coffee?" he asked.

Jenny looked stricken. "The blast knocked the table the coffee pot was on over. It shattered, along with all the mugs. I'm waiting for facility engineers to bring out a new one. Sorry."

All three of the detectives looked longingly at the empty table that had once held the coffee pot. "Anything else I need to know about?" McGarrett asked.

"The Historical Society called. Mrs. Mitchell wants an appointment to speak with you about the damage done to the building as soon as possible."

Steve cringed. "Not until I've had a lot more coffee," he said. "Let's get to it, gentleman. Danno, on your way back from the DA's..."

"I know," Danny said. "Pick up some coffee."

O-O-O-O-O

Steve's office was open to the elements, not that he minded. The paneless, blindless windows were allowing the trade winds to blow through the office. Considering that back on the mainland it was midwinter and in Brooklyn where he was born there was snow on the ground and ice on the sidewalks, he'd take the tropics any day.

Jenny buzzed through to let him know that ADA Gleeson was on line two. He picked up the phone. "Good morning, Gina," he said.

"No," she replied. "It isn't. You are calling about one Frederick Phelps. Let it go, Steve, it's out of our hands."

McGarrett frowned. That was not the answer he wanted. "Would you care to elaborate on that?" he asked.

"I can't," she said. "There's nothing to elaborate on."

"Phelps is missing from lockup. I need to know the how and the why."

"No," Gina said evenly, "you don't."

"This is my jurisdiction, Gina," he said, raising his voice slightly. "I need to know what's going on. Where is Phelps?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. "I have to make some calls first," she said. "Give me an hour and I'll see if I can get you some answers. Just do me a favor and wait until I get back to you."

"Alright, you've got an hour," he said, hanging up the phone. Gina was a brilliant lawyer, aggressive, focused, and ambitious. They had dated briefly before he met Maggie. Theoretically , they should have been a good match. Realistically, something was missing that he hadn't been able to pin down, except that kept getting the feeling that what she was attracted to was his job title. They had very little in common and the initial attraction, for him at least, had worn off after the first month. She found some of his ideas old fashioned and antiquated. He chalked it up to the age difference.

 _Funny,_ he thought, _Maggie is Gina's exact opposite. If I had ever suggested to Gina that I wanted a stay-at-home wife, she would have questioned my sanity._ Gina was smart, beautiful, sexy, and a handful in bed, but there had still been something lacking. Maybe he had been getting tired of relationships that amounted to little more than a romp in the hay. Maybe what he had needed was to meet the right woman at the right time. With Maggie, everything had clicked. She was a small, quiet presence who filled a space in his life that he hadn't known was there. He smiled to himself, once more thanking whatever gods that were in the area for sending him his little _Menehune._

He got up to get a cup of coffee, only to remember the coffeepot had been destroyed in the blast. _Caffeine_ , he thought, _I need caffeine_. He was getting ready to give in and head for the coffee shop down the street when he heard the scream. He bolted out of his office to find that Jenny wasn't at her desk. Chin was already rushing through the door. The scream seemed to have come from the break room down the hall. McGarrett and Chin ran down the hallway, guns drawn. The door to the break room was open, a fresh trade wind blowing in through the broken window.

Jenny stood in the doorway, face frozen in horror.

Cord McKenzie's head sat in the center of the table amid broken glass, spilled sugar, coffee creamer, and left over doughnut crumbs, eyes open, staring at nothing. And he was smiling.

McGarrett and Chin holstered their weapons. McGarrett wrapped Jenny in a friendly embrace, holding her until she stopped shaking. "It's okay, Jenny," he said. "Do you want me to call your husband?"

Jenny shook her head. "No, I'll be alright. It's not every day you find a head in the break room," she said, trying to stifle a nervous giggle. "But someone needs to call the clean up crew. I think they missed this room."

Chin was looking at McKenzie's head. "Look like he's happy about something, Boss. Ten bucks says Doc is going to find a mouthful of gum."

 _Gallows humor_ , McGarrett thought, _there are times when I think it's the only thing that keep us sane._ "Kono's still downstairs, call him and tell him we found McKenzie's head. Then call Doc and tell him to send someone over to get it."

"Will do. You think today could get any stranger?"

"I hope not. Come one, Jenny, I'll buy you a coffee." McGarrett and Jenny left in search of coffee, leaving Chin to make the calls and secure the crime scene.

O-O-O-O-O

A convoy was pulling into the parking lot as McGarrett and Jenny crossed the lawn. McGarrett passed Jenny the cardboard tray containing coffee and doughnuts and went to meet the visitors. The governor's limo was hard to miss, as were the two HPD motorcycle officers, a blue and white squad car, and large black SUV that resembled the vehicles Honolulu County's former sheriff had ordered. The convoy halted near the crime scene. Kono opened the door on the passenger side and the Governor got out, followed by an Army officer in Class A's, and Gina Gleeson,

"Good morning, Steve," Jameson said. I believe you know ADA Gleeson already, and this is Lieutenant Colonel Andraus Yablanski. Colonel, this is Steve McGarrett, the head of Five-O and Kono Kalakaua, Honolulu county sheriff.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. McGarrett," Yablanski said, shaking hands with both Steve and Kono. "I would also like to thank you for rescuing my ex-wife and Maggie Alden from those thugs." Yablanski was born in Yugoslavia and had emigrated with his parents when he was four. Traces of a Eastern European accent still lingered in his speech.

"We couldn't have done it without the help you and Johnathan Kaye provided." McGarrett said. "So what brings you to our little Island Paradise?"

"Steve," Jameson said, frowning. He knew McGarrett was going to extremely unhappy with what he was about to tell him. "ADA Gleeson called me earlier about the disappearance of one Frederic Phelps from county jail. I'm going to let Colonel Yablanski and ADA Gleeson explain what happened."

"I'm waiting," McGarrett said.

"Phelps is gone. By now he's back on the mainland," Gina said. "Please believe me when I tell you I had as little prior knowledge as you did."

"Meaning exactly what?" he demanded.

"Phelps was a deep cover operative for the NSA," Yablanski said. "We recruited him from prison. He would supply us with any information we needed or wanted in exchange for parole. He was here on a mission. The Gulf War meant more weapons and explosives were being transshipped to the units permanently stationed in the Gulf. Hawaii is a way point. Ships pull in here to refuel and resupply and when they do, they leave part of their ordnance behind."

"You mean weapons smuggling?" McGarrett asked. "Didn't you think that it might have been a good idea to let us in on the plan? What you're saying is that military grade ordnance is being offloaded in Hawaii. What happens to it then?"

"That's what we're trying to find out, Steve," Governor Jameson said. "I was asked to keep all local law enforcement out of the loop. This was suppose to be a strictly military and federal operation. What we didn't expect was for Mother's Helper to make a return visit."

"I got a question," Kono said, frowning, face flushing red with anger. "How much of the file I got on Phelps at the SO is real, and how much of it is make believe?"

Yablanski raised an eyebrow, surprised to find that the big Hawaiian Sheriff was quicker on the uptake than he'd thought. "About 70/30," he said.

"That translates into about 98 percent bullshit and two percent truth," McGarrett said. "You put my people in danger! We raided that place on the premise Phelps was running a chop shop without even the slightest hint they were walking into an ongoing federal operation. Funny thing, though, Phelps swears McKenzie didn't get those claymores from him and we didn't find so much as a .223 round when we searched the place. Would you care to explain that?"

"That much is true. Phelps wasn't handling military ordnance at the time of your raid," Yablanski said. "He was ordered to give McKenzie anything he asked for. We were hoping on catching McKenzie taking possession of the weapons. We wanted to catch them in the act. I'm sorry to say it didn't work out the way we planned it."

"Tell that to Keokie Aliki's widow," Kono said.

"I will see that she is generously compensated," Yablanski said. "McKenzie was a monkey wrench thrown into the gearbox. We knew that once he got back here he was going to meet up with one of these fringe groups, we made sure it was the one that was working with us. We knew he had plans to bomb Iolani Palace and we knew he wanted to do it with an enhanced fertilizer bomb. We had operatives on his tail the minute he left Phelps' garage with the bomb making supplies. Only we lost him and I'm sorry to say, he managed to build his bomb, complete with claymores as a triggering device."

McGarrett looked around at the scorched vegetation, broken glass, and the chassis's of the burned out vehicles. "Another 40 yards and Iolani Palace would have been a pile of rubble. Now, where's Phelps?"

Yablanski gave McGarrett a long look, his face unreadable and devoid of emotion. "There is no Phelps. He's gone. Trust me when I tell you he won't come back."

"Steve," Gina said, "Any record of Phelps being on this Island are currently being redacted. When they're done, it will be as if he never existed."

"Governor, this is bullshit and you know it!" McGarrett growled, scowling.

"I know, Steve," Jameson said. "Only there's not much I can do about it. I got a call late last night from both of our Senators. Either Phelps disappears or a large chunk of federal funding, specifically earmarked for law enforcement, disappears. Let it go, Steve. Colonel Yablanski as assured me he has shut down the operation Phelps was involved in and that he has no plans to resume it, and if he does, Five-O and every other law enforcement entity on this Rock will be informed."

McGarrett sighed, thinking to himself, _six more years and no more_. "Next time, call my damned office. Is there anything else I can help you with this morning?"

"You could tell me how my ex wife is doing," Yablanski said, blushing. "When I learned that her husband had been injured I was very concerned."

"Susan's fine," Steve said, trying hard not to relish Yablanski's discomfort. "She's enjoying being pregnant. Duke was wearing Kevlar and wasn't badly injured. He should be out of the hospital tomorrow."

"That is good news," Yablanski said. "I understand that your son is dating my daughter, that is to the extent that can be accomplished as he's at Quantico and she's at Vassar. I am looking forward to meeting him."

"Sophie is a sweet kid. She gets a kick out of telling people her mother is having a baby. She gets along well with Duke's kids and they think of her as a sister."

Yablanski stared down at his highly shined shoes, giving himself a minute to think before he spoke. "Sophie has a remarkable mother, and I should have paid as much attention to my family as I did to my career. But that is neither here nor there. Governor, I think you said you had something planned?"

"Coming right up," Jameson raised his right arm, signaling the black SUV to roll forward. Compton was driving. He got out and tossed the keys to McGarrett.

"What's this all about?" Steve asked.

Kono was grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Your new wheels, Boss. Murphy ordered himself a new one with all the bells and whistles. Got three more waiting at the garage for Danny, Chin, and Duke. All they got to do is bring the old cars in and sign for the new ones."

"Why is the license plate taped?" McGarrett asked as he was strolling around the black Ford Excursion.

The SUV had swing out back doors and a large cargo area behind a back seat that flipped down. He gave the truck a good long look, trying to remember if there was a drive in theater on the Island. All that space in the back was giving him ideas.

"Oh, that," said the governor. "Almost forgot about that. You see, this was suppose to be a birthday present, only you were busy getting married. Then we thought about going for the day you got back to work after your honeymoon, and you can see how well that turned out. Then you conveniently got your car blown up and we decided to take advantage of the situation. It's not the fancy presentation we wanted, but it'll do. Sgt Compton, could you do the honors, please?"

"You got it, sir," Compton said, reaching down and tearing the tape off the plate.

McGarrett stared at the plate, wishing Maggie were there to share the moment.

"I signed the bill into law this morning making that plate yours in perpetuity. When you retire, it goes with you."

Steve smiled, speechless for a moment. "Thank you, governor." He was still staring at the plate. It read:

 **FIVE-O**

(All Pau)


End file.
